


Slick Roads and Sick Friends

by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, Snow Storm, Van Days, sick!patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:20:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8826598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahyperactiverhero/pseuds/ahyperactivehero
Summary: Pete fails to listen to the warning from the locals about an approaching snow storm, and Patrick's sick. Cue the snow fall, slick roads, and ditches.





	

Sometimes Pete wondered how he got himself into these situations. Who else in the world would get stuck at the side of the road in bum-fucked-Oklahoma while trying to make it back from a convenient store with a shitty van that felt the need to break down every other minute while the rest of the band relaxed back at the hotel room they had managed to scrape enough money between the four of them to get?

Pete, that's who. And Patrick, who had unfortunately been dragged along.

The trip had started out fine. They'd pulled into the small town around three in the afternoon and checked into the first motel they had seen. Honestly, Pete was surprised that the town had even had a motel, as it looked like a grand total of maybe twenty people lived there. Either way, he'd been excited to see a motel, no matter how crappy and rundown it was, with a VACANCY sign still flashing in the distance.

“Patrick, wake up,” Pete had shouted from the front of the van. He'd tossed an empty water bottle back at the singer, watching as it had bounced off of the top of his head. The younger boy had jolted awake, his hair sticking up at odd angles and dried drool stuck to the side of his face. 

“We're here,” Pete said happily. He'd been so excited to get out and stretch his legs, feeling that ever-present anxious, claustrophobic feeling he sometimes got when he had to ride for too long.

Patrick, on the other hand, looked a lot less thrilled at the thought of moving. “Where's here?” he asked, glancing out the window at the motel. It looked pretty abandoned from where he was sitting.

“It's the only motel in town, we've already checked,” Joe said, helpfully. It was clear from his tone that he was not pleased to be staying there, the thought of the disgusting rooms that were surely behind those closed doors truly not appealing to him.

Patrick still looked confused, but he didn't ask anything. He rubbed his nose on the back of his sleeve and grabbed his backpack from the floor. Pete flashed a smile at him, almost bouncing up and down in his seat.

“We can finally have a real shower, Trick!” he said. He couldn't really remember the last proper shower he'd had, but it had been a while. It was probably back at that one girl's house, who they'd somehow managed to convince to let them stay the night there. Pete liked to think that it was his flirting skills that got them that, but he knew it was probably just so she could piss off her parents by having four “rockstars” stay at the house while they were gone.

“Good, you smell like you need one,” Patrick said, grinning.

Pete reached back and punched his arm, causing Patrick to cry out. The two of them ended up in a weird, sort of slap-fight that mainly involved them hitting the seat in between them.

“Would you two stop acting like dumb asses and help me?” Andy asked. He'd gone in to check them in, coming back with a pair of keys and opened the back doors to the van. “The lady in there said that it's supposed to snow and ice over tonight, so I don't want to leave the gear in the van.”

Usually, if they were lucky enough to get a motel room for the night, they would leave the stuff in the van, only taking in what was absolutely necessary. It was way too much work to haul in that stuff, only to have to haul it back out by nine in the next morning. Besides, it was highly unlikely anyone would look at their van and assume that there was anything valuable inside anyways.

However, snow and ice was a different kind of cold. That shit could fuck with their instruments, and they were already struggling to survive, they didn't need to add buying a new guitar to the list of their needed items.

Pete had laughed, waving his arms out around him. “Isn't it way too warm to snow? Like, it's probably around fifty right now,” he said, confidently.

Andy shrugged. “I'm just going off of what the lady at the counter said.”

So they hauled all of their stuff in, leaving it in heaps in between the beds as there was no other space for it. 

“Man, I'm starving,” Joe said, falling down on to one of the beds. There were only two in the room, Joe sprawled on one and Patrick collapsed on the other one. 

Patrick was laying face down on the bed, ignoring the chatter going on around him. He'd been sleeping all afternoon after Pete had woken him up at dawn, insisting that he needed a “navigating buddy” for his driving shift. Anyone with a brain knew better than to wake a sleeping Stump, but he clearly hadn't cared.

“Me too,” Pete agreed, hoping down on the bed containing Patrick. He bounced him up, enjoying the little grunts of protest that came from Patrick.

Andy peered out the window, tugging the curtain to the side. “Well, I would suggest going to get something to eat, but it really does look like it's about to snow.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Dude, we've drove in the snow before,” he said. It was ridiculous to be afraid of something like this now.

“Yeah, but not in a van and not on these roads. It's different,” Andy said. He left the curtain fall back in place and leveled a look at Pete. “Like I said, the lady at the counter seemed to be pretty freaked out about it, so maybe we just wait it out.”

A groan rose up from Joe, who flopped back onto the bed. “Fine,” he said, “I guess I'll just starve here.”

An idea came into Pete's head then. “Fine, we'll go,” he said. Andy raised an eyebrow at him, clearly asking what he meant.

“Patrick and I will go and get some food. We need more gas anyways,” Pete said, trying to bring some logic into the situation. 

Andy cast a look between the two of them, Pete, who was clearly excited about a new adventure and challenge, and Patrick, who didn't seem to have a clue as to what was going on.

“C'mon, Andy, I know you're hungry too, and no vending machine is going to have a vegan option,” Pete said, genuinely offering a good service now.

Andy shrugged. “Fine. Just be careful, okay?” he said, sounding exactly like Pete's mom when he'd first got his driver's license. He tossed the keys to him, a look of concern spread over his face regardless.

Pete caught them with a swish of his hand, victory written all over his face. “Yes, mom,” he teased and then nudged Patrick in the ribs. “C'mon, Trick!” 

Patrick flinched from his spot on the bed, his head popping up in confusion. “Huh?”

“We're gonna go out and get some food,” Pete said, dangling the keys in front of him face.

Patrick blinked, a stoned look on his face, before nodding his head. He grabbed his hat from the floor where it had fallen and shoved it on top of his head before staggering towards the door.

Pete should have realized the signs well before they were done shopping. Patrick was slower than usual, even after just having been woken up from a nap, he clearly wasn't paying attention to anything Pete said, and he seemed to be shivering more than what the weather called for. Instead he ignored them, focusing more on the quest he had assigned them.

The convenient store was actually part grocery store and it also seemed to be the only one the town had. It was on the edge of town, completely on the other side of town from the motel.

“Wow, this town must really be filled with paranoid people,” Pete said, laughing at how all of the bread, milk, and eggs were gone, as well as a fair share of the beer. It still didn't feel cold enough outside for a snow storm like everyone seemed to be predicting though, so he ignored it.

Patrick sniffed and shrugged. That seemed to be his main response to everything Pete said. 

Pete placed everything that they needed in a basket which he carried to the front. Patrick trailed along silently after him, freaking Pete out. Patrick was never silent, not even in his sleep.

“Are you okay?” Pete asked, placing the items on the counter. Patrick's hands were stuffed inside his jacket, his hat smashed down over his ears as if he were preparing to walk out into the Arctic. Seriously, it wasn't even fifty, Pete swore!

“Just tired,” Patrick said. He coughed slightly into his elbow and jerked a thumb towards the van. “I'm just going to wait in the van, okay?”

Pete nodded. A small amount of guilt was crawling in his skin, wondering if Patrick's tiredness was due to him waking him up so early. He'd only done it because he had been lonely driving down the back roads of Oklahoma, where the only exciting thing to see was potentially some cows getting it on in the fields. 

The man ringing him up cast a glanced after Patrick, noticing the vehicle he was climbing into.

“You guys might wanna find some place to stay tonight,” he said. “The roads are gonna get pretty bad once the storm hits.”

Pete wanted to tell everyone that no storm was coming because in order for it to snow and stick it had to be colder!, but he didn't. He just smiled, told the man thank you, and paid for everything as quickly as he could.

He threw open the van door, expecting to be able to rant to Patrick about what everyone kept saying, only to be surprised to see him already asleep. Patrick's face as smashed against the passenger's side window, his breath fogging up the glass around his mouth. He knew how much he hated to sleep sitting upright like that and was honestly surprised to see him already asleep.

He shrugged and began to put the groceries away in the back, setting them up so that they wouldn't potentially fall over and crush each other or end up sliding all over the floor. Without all their gear in the back of the van there was very little to stop it from rolling around everywhere.

By the time he was done with that he had noticed the temperature was dropping. One glance at the already overcast sky told him it was indeed getting darker, and it was in fact getting colder. Already, fat flakes were beginning to fall, causing Pete to panic slightly.

He hadn't been lying when he said they'd drove on ice and snow before, but Andy had been right when he'd said it would be the first time in a van and in a new environment. It was enough to make even seasoned drivers nervous.

It was easy to tell why everyone in town had been so worried about the storm not even five minutes in. He'd already had to put on his windshield wipers, the weight of all the snow gathering on them threatening to snap them.

By the time he reached the half way point back to the motel it was clear that they probably wouldn't make it. The roads were already getting slick and the van wasn't properly weighted to prevent them from sliding. Still, he tried, nearly making it when the van decided to slide into the ditch.

It wasn't a violent slide, just enough that it flung them around a bit and knocked some of the groceries around in the back. Pete groaned and rubbed his head as he looked towards Patrick, calling out to make sure he was okay.

A series of coughs broke free from Patrick, who was also rubbing his head. He must have smacked it against the window when the car had slammed to a stop in the ditch. He looked towards Pete, completely bewildered as to where they were.

“What happened?” Patrick asked. His voice was scratchy, and Pete already knew that it had nothing to do with the sudden awakening he had received. “Where are we?”

“Well, in a ditch right now,” Pete said. He looked around outside, trying to judge if it would be worth it to get out of the van. “Stay here.” 

Patrick didn't look like he planned on going anywhere anyways, but he nodded his head and leaned back against the cool window again. Pete sighed and hopped out of the van.

The first thing he checked was the tires. Andy and Joe would literally skin him alive if he had to tell them they had to waste the last little bit of their money on a new tire. Thankfully nothing seemed wrong with any of them, aside from the fact that they were buried about a foot deep in the snow.

The snow was still coming down hard, darkening the already dimming sky. He knew it would probably be too far to walk back to the motel, and once glance in at Patrick confirmed it.

Patrick was sick. Pete had tried to deny the truth that had been in front of him all day, but now it was finally sinking in and making sense. All morning he had cleared his throat, saying that he'd just swallowed wrong earlier or something, which Pete had ignored. His face had been rosier than usual too, particularly his cheeks, and he had been acting like it was negative six degrees all day long, even before it had started snowing. There was also the fact that he'd put up with a lot more of Pete's shit that day than he usually would have, such as driving into an on-coming snow storm just because he hadn't been paying enough attention to know better. 

Pete fought his way back to the meager groceries that he had bought and grabbed two of the sandwiches and bottles of water before fighting his way back to the front again.

He threw open the door, some of the snow managing to come inside with him. “Here you go,” he said, tossing the sandwich into Patrick's lap. He shook the bottles of water and set them down inside the cup holders. “I don't think we're going anywhere any time soon.” He flicked on the emergency lights for good measure.

The singer groaned, but he at least sat up fully. He unwrapped the sandwich in his lap and picked at it, not eating it Pete noticed, but messing with it, pulling pieces off or rearranging the stuff on it.

“Didn't you mom ever tell you not to play with your food?” Pete teased, already halfway through his sandwich.

He got the bird for that one. “Fuck you,” Patrick said, sliding his sandwich onto the dash. “I'm just not hungry.”

Pete frowned at that. None of them had exactly had a lot to eat over the past week, as money had been a little tight until Pete's parents had wired them some money, so the four of them had spent the past few days in a constant state of at least “sort of” hungry.

“Well you still need to eat,” he said, reaching over for the sandwich. He'd planned on placing it in Patrick's lap again, hoping that he'd at least take a few bites now, but that didn't happen.

Coughs broke out from Patrick again, this time lasting longer and sounding so much more painful than before. Water was leaking from Patrick's eyes as he tried to cover his mouth and stop the coughs, but nothing seemed to work. He leaned forward until he was almost doubled over, coughing and coughing, unable to catch his breath.

Faintly, Pete wondered if they had his inhaler in here. He knew that they had had two floating around at the beginning of tour, with one always being in Patrick's bag and the other being somewhere where most everyone would be able to find it. The one in Patrick's bag was clearly out, but hopefully the one usually stuck in the van was still there.

“Are you okay?” Pete asked. Already, he was digging around between the seats, in the weird thing that they usually stored CDs or change in, and everywhere else he could reach looking for that dumb inhaler.

Patrick waved his hand around, almost smacking Pete in the face as he tried to look in the floor board.

“I'm fine,” he coughed out. “I'm just-” He stopped as another fit took over him.

Pete's frantic searching hadn't gone unnoticed by Patrick. He slapped at Pete's hand before hitting the dash again, pointing to the glove box. Pete leaned over until he was practically sitting in Patrick's lap to dig through their stuffed glove box. He let out a victorious sound and yanked it free from the pile of CD cases and napkins that were shoved inside.

Patrick took the inhaler but didn't use it. He just held on to it, coughing up a storm while Pete had a heart attack. Finally, the coughs died down and he was able to draw in a deep, calming breath.

“We should really make a special holder for that thing,” Pete said quietly. “Put it somewhere so we always know where it is.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “I knew where it was.”

Pete leveled his eyes at him. “Yeah, but that wasn't helping when you couldn't even tell me where it was!”

Patrick rolled his eyes again. He leaned back against the door, trying to wrap his jacket even tighter around him. “Jesus it's freezing in here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Pete looked down at his own hoodie and yanked it off, revealing a long sleeve shirt underneath. The hoodie wasn't likely to fit over Patrick's own heavy jacket, so instead he just laid it over Patrick like a blanket.

“What are you doing?” Patrick asked. He'd cracked an eye open to glance at whatever it was Pete had put on him, frowning when he saw it was his jacket. “You're going to freeze to death.”

It wasn't really that cold in there, which Pete pointed out. “Besides, we've still got our heater.”

The van decided to take that exact moment to die. A groan came from Patrick from beneath the layers of clothes. 

“Did you remember to get gas?” Patrick asked.

Cursing, Pete shook his head. He knew that he had been forgetting something, but after he had seen the snow and realized Patrick was sick, gas had been the furthest thing from his mind.

Silently, Pete debated if it would be worth it for the two of them to try and walk back to the motel now. It was true that it was still snowing, but if they stayed in the van they were just as likely to freeze to death. Another glance at Pete told him again what he already knew, that Patrick wasn't going to be able to make it a block, much less the couple of miles or so that it would take for them to get back.

He looked at his best friend, shivering and occasionally coughing and felt incredibly guilty. If he had just listened to everyone on Earth who had told him not to go out, they they wouldn't be in this mess.

Pete crawled into the very back of the van, rummaging until he found what he was looking for. There, strewn across the bottom of the van floor was a few of the ratty blankets that they had used to cover their equipment, as well as at least one sleeping bag that they sometimes used to sleep in the van. He grabbed the items and hauled them over the seat, laying them across the middle seat and balling up one of the thinnest blankets to make a pillow.

“Here, Patrick, climb back here and lay down,” he said, tapping Patrick on the shoulder to get his attention. Already he had dozed off, his hat knocked so far off of his head it was practically on the window instead.

He grumbled, but eventually gave in and crawled to the back. Pete helped him to lay down, covering him up to the fullest of his extent. He looked like a baby being swaddled by his mother, which gave Pete a very odd image to compare Patrick to.

“When are we going to get out of here?” Patrick asked, his voice painful sounding to Pete's ears. 

A grimace crossed Pete's face at the question. It wasn't likely that they were going to be getting out of there any time soon, but he didn't want to tell Patrick that. He was already sick, he didn't need to worry about them being stuck in a ditch.

“Soon, I'm sure. Andy and Joe are gonna be pretty worried about us soon,” he said confidently. He didn't explain that the reason they would be so worried was because Pete had failed to grab his phone and thus they would have no way to contact them.

Patrick nodded his head before falling right back asleep. Pete hated to admit it, but he was kind of jealous at how quickly he had fallen asleep. It usually took Pete hours to fall asleep, which resulted in as little sleep as humanly possible. Patrick just made it look so easy, and the fact that he was sick didn't matter to Pete at that moment.

Pete had no clue how long they had been sitting in the van before Patrick began to stir again. It must have been at least an hour or so, the skies finally falling completely dark like night.

Pete had crawled into the front seat, crossing his legs over into the passenger's seat, but he quickly threw them into the floor when he heard Patrick's grunting.

“Patrick?” he asked, looking over to top of his seat at his best friend.

Patrick was struggling with the mound of blankets on top of him, tossing and turning to free himself. Finally he managed to free an arm from under the covers and pulled himself up into a sitting position, shoving the rest into the floor.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Pete asked, trying to calm him down.

Patrick turned to him, his glassy blues eyes looking in his direction but clearly not seeing him. His bottom lip wobbled and a few tears fell from his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Patrick said, his voice cracking and broken. Pete winced, knowing how much that must hurt and also knowing that Patrick definitely shouldn't be talking at that moment. His voice was important, and having something like that mess up would set them further back than any tire or guitar ever would. He was way more important than any guitar or tire too.

“Sorry for what?” Pete asked, concerned for his friend.

Patrick shook his head, as if he were disagreeing with Pete already. “I'm so, so, sorry! I swear I'll do better,” he said.

Now Pete was freaking out. “What's wrong with you?” Pete asked, leaning around the seat to try and see Patrick fully.

“I understand if you wanna get another singer,” he said. Pete scrunched up his eyebrows at that. How on Earth could Patrick even think that they would want to get a new singer? He had a golden voice and he was their best friend, they wouldn't just replaced him!

“Patrick, why the hell would we want to get another singer?” Pete asked bewildered.

Patrick waved his arms as if it were obvious. “Because I fucked up! Didn't you hear me?” he asked. He was nearly hysterical by now, the sound of tear heavy on his voice although none fell from his red eyes. “I'm sorry!”

Pete shook his head. “Hear you when? What are you talking about?” 

A cry forced itself free from Patrick's chest. “On stage just now. I'm sorry, I'll do better and then at the end of tour you can find another singer.” He sounded so resigned, as if he had already been kicked out of the band, and maybe in his mind he really had been.

Was this supposed to be joke? Pete glanced around the van, expecting someone to come out at say, “Gotcha!” so that they could laugh at how easy he was to fool. But no one did, and Patrick just continued to cry harder.

“Patrick, where are we?” he asked, making sure to look straight into Patrick's eyes.

He watched as Patrick's eyes glazed over. They looked around but still they didn't seem to be seeing anything. “At a concert?” he asked, uncertain. 

Worry kicked at Pete's heart. “No, Patrick, we're in a van in Oklahoma,” he said slowly and matter-of-factly.

Patrick shook his head back and forth like a dog. “No, no. We just had a concert,” he said, although his voice was becoming less and less sure. He glanced towards the window, but it was nearly too dark to see anything beyond the pane of glass other than the occasional dusting of snow.

His hand reached for the door handle before Pete could stop him. The door cracked open, allowing even more of the cold air to seep into the van with them, as well as a rather large amount of snow. As quickly as a he could, Pete crawled over the seats to sit next to Patrick, trying to yank his hand away from the door and shut it before they froze to death.

“What the fuck, Patrick!?” Pete yelled. That's when he could feel how hot Patrick was. Pete placed a hand on Patrick's forehead, noticing at once how dry and how hot it was. His fever, which must have been pretty low grade earlier, was now hot enough to burn Pete's hand.

Patrick pushed against Pete, trying to wiggle his way out of the van. All he managed to do was kick Pete in the shins a couple of times and drag a bit more snow into the van. Eventually, after practically pinning Patrick to the seat, Pete was able to close the van door, locking the cold air back outside.

“I'm sorry,” Patrick said again. Pete wasn't sure if he meant for trying to get out of the van or if he was still hung up on getting kicked out of the band, but he quickly decided he didn't want to know.

“You're fine, Patrick. You're okay,” he said. He wrapped him back up, smoothing his hair out of his eyes and removing his hat from his head. Confusion was still so evident on his face that Pete felt his heart break. “Here, drink some of this,” Pete said. “It'll help.”

It was as if the bottle of water had done something to personally offend Patrick. He glared at it and turned his head away from it as if that simple action would make it disappear. “No,” he said, although it came out more like a whisper. 

Pete gave a long-suffering sigh. Of course Patrick was going to chose now to be difficult.“Yes. C'mon, Patrick, I just need you to drink it,” he said. He shook the bottle at Patrick, hoping he'd realize he was thirsty when he heard it.

“I said, 'no',” Patrick said, smacking the bottle out of his hand. It splashed onto the floor, water quickly soaking into Pete's hole riddled shoes. Pete took a deep breath, reminding himself that Patrick was confused right now, not understanding anything that was going on.

He grabbed the other bottle from the cup holder up front and held it out to him. “Drink. The. Water. Patrick,” he growled. 

Patrick's eyes grew wide in surprise at the voice, before quickly narrowing at Pete. “I said, 'no',” he returned, his raspy voice cracking and dropping a few times in the short sentence.

Both of them paused, only for a minute, before Pete jumped at him, trying to pour at least a little bit of the water into his mouth. He knew that if he could get him to drink some then he'd want the rest, he just needed to realize how thirsty he was now. When Pete was younger he used to get dehydrated during soccer games and had almost the same reaction. It would be almost an easy fix if Patrick would stop being so difficult.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the water bottle was empty. Most of it had gotten on the two of them or the van seats but some of it had found it's way into Patrick's mouth, doing what little it could to cool him down and re-hydrate him.

Pete grabbed a shirt from the back of the van, vaguely recognizing it as Joe's shirt, and packed it full of snow from the floorboards. Once he was sure he had wrapped it enough to prevent the snow from slipping out he draped it across Patrick's forehead, hoping to cool the fire burning in his brain.

Patrick flinched but didn't try to get away. He was shivering still, yanking the blankets closer and closer to himself until he looked like a cocoon with only his head sticking out. Pete reached for another bottle of water, making sure to get Patrick to take tiny sips every so often.

“It's cold,” Patrick said simply. 

Pete had been trying to ignore this fact for a while now, but it was rapidly becoming too big of an issue. Even before the doors had been opened the temperature inside the van had been steadily dropping but it only got worse with the snow and cold air that had been let inside.

“I know,” Pete replied. He'd huddled himself against the door of the van, wrapping his arms around himself and pulling his sleeves down past his fingers. He'd kill to be back at the motel right now, snoozing in the dingy motel bed where it was nice and warm.

“I'm cold,” Patrick said.

Pete resisted the urge to kick Patrick. “I know,” he said again. Even tucking his knees up to his chest didn't help. Maybe he could figure out a way to maneuver his legs into his shirt to try and conserve warmth?

Patrick wiggled some, scooting until his head eventually bumped against Pete's leg. He continued wiggling until Pete was forced to straighten out his legs to allow Patrick to lay down on top of him. His body was propped against Pete's, the pile of blankets finally covering both of them.

“There,” Patrick said, and Pete did have to admit that it was much warmer this way. Patrick leaned back against Pete's chest, his head laying to the side and resting on his shoulder. If Patrick had been healthy or it hadn't been so cold Pete would have made a smart remark about Patrick laying on him, just to watch Patrick's face go red, but he didn't this time. The last thing he wanted to do was piss Patrick off and make him move away.

A few more coughs escaped from Patrick, but they sounded better now. Whether it was from the little bit of water he managed to drink or from sitting up right Pete didn't know but he was grateful none the less. Still, they managed to shake Patrick, who in turn was shaking Pete.

Pete picked the snow filled t-shirt up from where it had fallen and replaced it on Patrick's forehead. “How're you feeling?” he asked him, even though it was most certainly a stupid question.

It took a long, slow minute for Patrick to reply but eventually he did. He shrugged his shoulders and brushed at his nose with his sleeve. “Like shit I guess. Sorry for freaking out earlier.”

“Nah,” Pete said, brushing Patrick's hair back. “You're good.”

Silence reigned in the van, the only sounds coming from their breathing and the whirling winds outside. Something kept tickling at the back of Pete's mind though, something that he wasn't willing to let go.

“Hey, Patrick?” he whispered. If Patrick had managed to fall asleep then the last thing he wanted to do was wake him up, but he still needed to know the answer to his question.

“Yeah?” Patrick responded, low and sleepily.

“Did you honestly think we'd kick you out if you did bad?” Pete asked.

No response came for a long time. Pete was sure he'd gone to sleep now and the conversation would have to wait until morning, but then he spoke, again just as soft and low as before but less sleepy. 

“No. I don't know. Maybe?” he said.

Pete wrapped his arms tightly around Patrick. “That's bullshit, dude, and you know it.”

“It was just a dream or whatever,” Patrick said, attempting to brush it off.

Pete, however, wasn't going to let him. “No, listen to me,” he said, rocking him enough to make sure he had his attention. “You're awesome, okay? Like, I've seriously never heard anyone better than you before.”

He could practically hear the eye roll in Patrick's tone. “Thanks, that's great Pete.”

Pete sighed, frustration building. “No, I'm being serious. And even if you couldn't sing anymore we wouldn't just kick you out of the band! You're one of our best friends! We'd figure out something, and if we couldn't then we'd stop Fall Out Boy all together.”

Patrick wrestled around until he could properly look at Pete. “Are you insane?” he asked. “You can't just stop the band.”

Pete shrugged. “Without you there wouldn't be a band. It's not Fall Out Boy if it's not the four of us.”

Patrick stared at Pete, his eyes squinted like he was trying to tell if Pete was being genuine or not. Pete hoped that he could see he was being the most honest that he had ever been with a person before in his entire life. He must have saw at least some of that spark because he nodded his head and continued to stare at Pete.

Pete squirmed, feeling a little bit like a bug under a microscope. “What?” he asked.

The words were barely out of his mouth before Patrick's lips were pressed against his, a gentle butterfly of a kiss. Pete closed his eyes and leaned forward, pulling Patrick closer to him and deepening the kiss. Patrick followed, allowing this to go on for so long before he had to break way, sounding as if he was coughing up a lung.

“That's sexy,” Pete said, humor easily coloring his tone.

“I probably just got you sick,” Patrick said apologetically.

“Nah,” Pete said. “I don't get sick. Germs are afraid of me.”

Patrick rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be brought back in for one last long, slow kiss before falling asleep on top of Pete.

XXX

They managed to get hauled out of the ditch the next morning. 

When they hadn't come back the night before and it had been discovered that they had left their phones in the motel, Andy and Joe had of course been freaked out. Not knowing what else to do, they had asked the woman behind the counter at the motel if she had heard anything about a white van or their friends.

After explaining all that they knew, the woman had sent her husband out with his tow truck to try and find where the two of them had disappeared to. Thank God it seemed like everyone old man in Oklahoma owned a tow truck, or else they might have been in trouble. Thankfully it had been an easy tow and Pete was able to help the older man while Patrick waited inside his cab with the heat on.

Now, two full days later, Andy and Patrick were both getting to have “I told you so” moments: Andy because he'd been right about listening to the locals, and Patrick because he had been right about getting Pete sick.

“See, this is what you get when you drive off into a snow storm,” Andy said, glancing in the rear view mirror back at Pete and Patrick, who were snuggled down as deep under all of their blankets as possible. “You get sick and leave us to drive.”

Patrick's hand popped out from under the covers. “Technically, I was already sick.” 

“Then you especially shouldn't have gone!” Andy said testily. Joe laughed from his place in the passenger's seat, glad that he wasn't the one on the receiving end of Andy's rage. 

“And technically, I don't think that was what made me sick,” Pete said, winking at Patrick. Patrick's entire face went red, or at least redder than it already was.

“Don't blame being around Patrick for making you sick,” Andy warned. “Because Joe and I have been around him and we're not sick.”

Pete wagged his eyebrows at the two of them. “Yeah, but have you been doing this?” he asked, leaning over and kissing Patrick square on the lips.

Andy and Joe were both expecting to hear protests from Patrick or playful shoves the way he usually was when Pete got a little too handsy with him than he was comfortable. To say that they were shocked when this didn't happened would be an understatement, and both of them were absolutely floored when Patrick kissed back, wrapping his arms around Pete's neck and pulling him closer.

Pete released Patrick's face, smiling when Patrick tried to lean forward and kiss him again.

“Nope,” Joe said, watching the two of them like they were complete strangers. “I can't say that we have.”

“Good,” Pete said. “Or that could have been a really awkward surprise.”

Joe turned around and looked at Andy. “Please, just get us the fuck out of Oklahoma.”

**Author's Note:**

> So finals week is finally over and my last big catering even is too, which means now I have almost a whole month to do as a please! Hopefully, this means more writing for things like this and for Lyrics In A Bottle.
> 
> Also! This story was inspired my own dumb ass this past week, because I became severally dehydrated during finals week, failed to eat almost all through out it, freaked out on my friends because I thought that I missed my final (when it was 2:30 in the morning), and almost had to be taken into the ER due to severe dehydration. This was not a fun time. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoyed this story and that your finals are going/went better than my week did!


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